


Monologue

by pissedofsandwich



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Dialogue-Only, M/M, implied sex???, might be a little confusing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 18:23:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/929636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pissedofsandwich/pseuds/pissedofsandwich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-CoHF. (assuming no one dies) When Magnus can't hear, Alec talks. Except Magnus listens to everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monologue

Hey, uh.

Hi.

God, I’m so rubbish at this… why am I talking to you again? I mean, why am I even here? I’m not even supposed to be here. If Isabelle finds out, she will kill me. She practically bans me from seeing you, you know. Was the one who set me up with that guy—just so you know it wasn’t my idea. She all but dragged me there, and you know how insistent she can be. If she wants something done, she’ll always get it done. And she wanted me to get over you—still does, in fact. She said, and I quote, ‘the best way to get over someone is to get under someone.’ But I’m not. Over you, that is.

…why am I even telling you this?

Well, maybe because you’re dying. Or in coma, whichever way you prefer. I can’t believe I’m really doing this—this illogical, very mundane thing when you hang out with people in coma and talk to them because you think—hope—they can hear you. Clary did that. I heard she tried to drag Jace along—when, you know, when they still thought they were siblings. I didn’t know if it worked. Clary didn’t tell me—well, why would she be telling me? We’re hardly friends. The only thing we have in common is our mutual concern regarding Jace and his ability to attract problems like a magnet.

You’re frowning.

Okay, you’re not. It was just my imagination. You always frown when I talk about Jace, even once the question of my affection had been settled. It annoyed me to no end—it’s as if you thought I’d go elope with him if suddenly he decides it’d be fun to be gay. I wouldn’t—just for your information. Thought you’d want to know—but I guess you wouldn’t. I mean, why would you? You broke up with me.

And I…

God.

You’re dying.

You’re really dying, aren’t you?

I mean, look at you. You’re _pale._ Not as pale as Simon, of course—but Simon’s dead, and you’re practically crawling your way towards it. And if it wasn’t for me—

Sorry, I mean—if it wasn’t for Shadowhunters—Shadowhunters, a group of secretive people that you barely tolerate—you’d not be here. You’d probably be hiding in one of your mansions in Hungary or Sweden or freaking Alaska. You wouldn’t be lying here fighting for your life. You would be safe. You would be alive. Well, more alive, anyway.

You’re dying.

Sorry, you’re probably annoyed at me right now. You hate it when someone repeats something over and over. But Jace once said that if you said something enough times, the word will lose its meaning and I thought maybe if I repeat it over and over it wouldn’t hurt me anymore. It still does. It still hurts me to see you like this, even worse that the first time I saw you fall. Remember that? It was probably just a few weeks ago. It felt like a century had passed since...

Since, well, since you broke up with me.

Why did you kiss me, Magnus?

I don’t get it.

You told me you didn’t want to see me anymore. You went away for days and you didn’t even want to answer my call. Why didn’t you call me back? Jace broke my phone. Twice. Isabelle wouldn’t even allow me anywhere near her phone. They thought I was losing my mind. Maybe I have. I just, you’re everything to me, okay? I want to know you. It’s unfair that you know everything about me and I don’t even know where you came from. I know what I did was terrible, but it was not unforgivable, right? I mean, warlocks aren’t the forgive-and-forget kind of people, but you couldn’t blame me. I guess it’s stupid of me to think that we could last forever. And to consider taking away your immortality, it was a dick move. I know. But it wasn’t what I had in mind when I went to see Camille that day—you know which day I’m talking about. She—she knows about you, Magnus. She knows you. And I thought since you didn’t seem to want to cooperate, maybe I could coax it out of her…

And then you caught me.

You didn’t even let me explain.

It’s just. You know I’d give up everything to be with you. I know I could lose everything. You’re aware of that, aren’t you? I mean, the day of the battle on the Brocelind Plain—which seemed like forever ago, by the way—when I kissed you in the Hall of Accords, I know how risky my action could be. I could get my Marks stripped right then and there if the Council wanted to. _I could lose everything_. My family could throw me out, or shut me out of their lives, they could lose the Institute—they could lose everything. Because of me. Come on, you gotta admit it’s kind of cool. Like, cool-brave. I’m probably the first gay-and-out Shadowhunter in centuries.

Isabelle thought you didn’t give me enough credit. I think so too, by the way.

You know how I struggled before—before Clary came along, right? I mean, you practically sniffed my sexuality that night at your party—which turned Simon into a rat. I think it’s disastrous, but hilarious. I mean, Isabelle turned a werewolf into a bunny once. An earless bunny. Compared to that, Simon’s predicament was far more entertaining. I thought about that sometimes and cracked up. Sometimes.

Anyway, uh—it’s hard to say it, I never talked about this kind of thing with anyone before, and even with Isabelle she just kind of guessed what I’m going through and. Uh, she supported me. She knew what kind of hell I would go through if anyone finds out. She tried to take Mom and Dad’s attention off of me, you know. I mean, it hadn’t occurred to me before, but Simon mentioned it, and I realized maybe the real reason why Isabelle opted to, uh, fool around with boys she knew my parents would never approve of is because she wanted all attention to be focused on her. So I wouldn’t have to worry about anyone finding out. So I can step back and fade into the walls—I’m not suggesting that she’s a whore, no. I know her, and I will punch anyone who dares call her a whore. And she’s with Simon now—they kind of made it official. That’s the only thing you missed during your coma. And Clary and Jace are planning to get married in Vegas and ride off to the sunset and live happily ever after with two troublemaker babies. But you already knew that, didn’t you?  I think we all did.

I was totally joking about the Vegas part, anyway.

…Nearly twenty minutes, and I’m not even close to tell you what I’m here for.

I guess I’m here just to see you. You know, before you really died.

Why did I laugh? Well, maybe it’s so damn funny. I’m the mortal one, and you’re the immortal one. You’re not supposed to lay here and die; I am. I am the weak Shadowhunter, and you’re the high and mighty High Warlock of Brooklyn who has lived for 800 years. Or more. I don’t know. You never tell me.

Anyway, a female warlock visited. She was kind of weird though, she didn’t look like any warlock I’ve seen before. She didn’t bear any kind of warlock sign. No pointy ear, no taloned hands, nothing. She looked so human she could pass as a 19-year-old mundane walking the street. She was wearing this pearl bracelet and was stroking it continuously as she talked to Jace and Clary. Jace looked kind of baffled when their conversation ended, and I’m kind of curious. Not many people can surprise him, you know. Anyway, um—she walked past Isabelle, and for a second she was just completely still, and she looked at Isabelle like she’d sprouted a second head or something, and then I realized she was looking at her ruby pendant. She looked sick, so I approached her and asked her if she’s alright, and then she looked at me all wild-eyed and I think she whispered something that sounded dangerously close to, “Will.”

And then she bolted out.

What the fuck, right? A female warlock—at least she claimed herself to be a warlock—suddenly just appeared out of nowhere and started talking to Jace and looking all flabbergasted at Isabelle and called me Will. I’m taking a wild guess and assume you know her. You must know her. She knew about Will, and anyone who came from your time knew who Will was.

_Who the fuck is Will?_

I know, I know, it’s pointless screaming at you because you wouldn’t wake up, and it’s awesome because I’ve been wanting to scream my head off at you for a while and you wouldn’t even be able to argue or make up a sarcastic remark to defend yourself, but I wish you were awake right now. Even if it’s just to kiss me and then push me away like you don’t even know me. Like what you did that day before we march against Sebastian. And, just. You owe me an explanation, you little shit. I demand answers, and I deserve it. If you’re going to die right now you could at least tell me who Will was. Or is. Is he even alive? What is he, anyway? Is he even a Shadowhunter, a fellow warlock? There’s so little I know about you, and yet I know that if— _when_ —you wake up, asking about Will would be the last thing I had in mind. I’d probably kiss you, but then you’d probably just push me away and tell me how much you hate me—which is better, somehow, than having you kiss the life out of me and ignore me for the rest of my life, because at least I know you hate me and you don’t want me. I will walk out of your life forever with more ease, and will not be asking myself questions no one knows how to answer.

Do you still love me?

Dear God, I’m procrastinating. Sorry, didn’t mean to ramble. Anyway, uh, I came here because I want to say sorry. I haven’t apologized properly. I’m sorry, Magnus, I really am. I just want you know that I never really considered taking away your immortality—your _life._ I would never do it, even if Camille told me how. Did she tell you about that time I came to her and she ended up giving me advices on my crappy love-life? I bet she didn’t. It happened, anyway; not that you’d cared.

And I came here to tell you that I still love you. I wouldn’t have the guts to tell you myself if you’re awake. Somehow the fact that you’re in coma and wouldn’t be able to hear me makes it easier. And the fact that I just downed half of a bottle of vodka that Dad hides in the kitchen helps too. A bit. I’m not drunk. Not too drunk that I’d wholeheartedly reveal everything to an almost dead guy, anyway.

See, I’m doing it. I’m repeating the fact that you’re going to die by the sunrise over and over so it won’t hurt as much. It still does. Jace must be lying.

Your hands are cold.

You used to be so warm. Do you mind me holding your hand? Sorry, I’ll keep my hands to myself.

You know, when Sebastian—Jonathan—told me that my boyfriend is dead, I’m kind of confused. I mean, I didn’t have a boyfriend anymore—except for that guy that Isabelle wanted me to hook up with, anyway, and he wasn’t even my boyfriend. And you broke up with me, so I’m kind of bewildered for a while. And then he said, “Sorry. I meant your _ex_ -boyfriend.” And then I saw red. I know it’s stupid. I could never outlive him. He would kill me without a thought, and he’s got dozens of Dark Shadowhunters surrounding him. Like I said, it was stupid. I’m outnumbered. He broke my legs—both of them—and my ribs. It hurt like hell, but you know what hurt me more? Seeing you dead. Well, dying. I almost believed him when he told me you were dead, and I’m glad I didn’t. I mean, you’re alive! Barely breathing and dying, yes, but alive enough.

And it’s just.

Why are you even there at the war, Magnus? Simon told me that if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even think to get involved. And we’re broken up. You’ve got no reason to side with the Shadowhunters. And yet you did. You almost even get yourself killed. Jia called you a _hero_. I didn’t know she admired you that much. But maybe that’s just how life is. When you’re alive, no one gives you much thought, and when you die, they call you a hero. Maybe when I die, Irina Cartwright will call me an inspiration and write sonnets about my blue eyes or something.

You can’t die, Magnus.

Dying just doesn’t happen to people like you. It happens to people like Jace—I could’ve sworn his motto is ‘born to die’—or people like Simon, because he’s the main character’s sidekick that lacks superpower but makes it up with wit and sarcasm and that one character everyone loves and _that_ character always dies.

Isabelle makes me watch movies. I don’t remember the titles, but there’s always someone who dies in one of the movies. It’s the movies that Simon likes, and I guess since you and Simon are the only ones who understand pop culture reference you’d get what I mean.

Just.

Don’t die, okay?

You’re dying, but dying people don’t always die, right? I mean, you look like you’re just sleeping right now. You look serene and peaceful and _are you smiling?_ No, it’s not my imagination, you’re really smiling and it’s not the kind of smile that’s akin to Church when he finds a rat under the rug. I mean you’re really smiling, like a genuine smile and I don’t even know what the fuck I’m talking about. Maybe I’m that drunk after all. Maybe at some point I’d doze off and Isabelle will have to drag me out.

One time, Isabelle almost died.

She was about seven, I think, and we were up in the training room and there was only me up there with her, and she wanted to practice flip. I told her to wait for my parents—they were answering a call from Idris, I think—but she didn’t hear me. So she climbed up and jumped, and she fell. She didn’t fasten the safety well and she freefalled and crashed on the floor. We had yet to start the training, we were just warming up when our parents had to go, so the mats weren’t yet prepared. She cracked her skull and was unconscious, and there was blood everywhere and I didn’t know what to think I couldn’t even scream, my voice caught and my chest was hurt like I was the one who just fell off the beam and my parents immediately took her to the infirmary and the whole time, I couldn’t stop crying. I think it was the first time Dad didn’t scold me for crying. I blamed myself and even though Mom and Dad told me it wasn’t my fault, somehow it hurt even more because I didn’t ask them to lie. They didn’t have to lie to make me feel like less crap, I didn’t ask them to, and they did anyway.

I guess it’s just what parents are required to do—lie to their kids so they won’t feel crap. And anyway, she didn’t die, obviously. But I was so scared. I’m so scared that she would and even more I’m scared of the fact that it could be my fault. So the whole night I sat outside the infirmary until Hodge stabilized her. I wanted to come in and see her, but Hodge wouldn’t let me. So when he went to fetch himself coffee, I snuck in and saw her. She was battered, she had bandage wrapped around her head and she was so pale, and she could look like she was sleeping if I ignored the blood part. Hodge saw me, and he sighed and let me stay, and he kept reassuring me Isabelle would live, but I was so scared, you know? So I dragged a chair and sat holding her hand for the rest of the night, and fell asleep there. I thought I could transfer her some of my life or strength if I kept holding her hand. Hodge told me it wasn’t possible, but I did anyway. She, well, she was alive—she woke up, and you know what’s the first thing she told me? She called me a sap.

I didn’t even know what it meant, but it made me so happy and I’m so glad and relieved that she was alive. I thought I’d saved her—I thought I’d saved her by giving her a little of my strength. I know now that I didn’t, but still, every time I looked back I couldn’t help but smile.

Oh, fuck it, I’m holding your hand and you wouldn’t object. You wouldn’t be able anyway. I’m giving you my strength. Hell, I’d give you all of it if you’d just wake up and be your magnificent self again and sass everyone out and bicker with Jace and Isabelle oh God I would give everything to see you alive, you keep you alive and breathing and just _keep you._ I don’t even care that when you wake up you would push me away. I just want you to live because you can’t die, okay? Goddammit, you’re fucking immortal, Magnus. Use your freaky warlock power to heal yourself. You fixed me up once, why couldn’t you do it to yourself?

Shit, I didn’t mean to cry. Sorry.

Just live. That’s all I’m asking. I wouldn’t bother you anymore, I promise, I wouldn’t even try to talk to you. Just live.

Live, okay?

Okay.

_I lo—_

(door opens)

Oh, hey, Isabelle. What are doing here?

I was just leaving.

Excuse me.

-

(door opens)

“What, Isabelle? I didn’t drink Dad’s vodka! I didn’t even know he had one hidden in the kitchen. Why don’t you go bug your vamp boyfriend or— _Magnus?_ What—what are you doing here? Are you—are you well?”

“I think I’m well enough to function. They relieved me just this morning.”

“Oh. Well. I… I am glad.”

“So am I.”

“…Well uh, welcome back?”

“You’re _hilarious_ , Alexander.”

“Don’t—“

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t call me _Alexander_.”

“Sorry, old habits die hard.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know, visiting old friend.”

“You’re lying.”

“Fine, you got me. I came here to talk to you.”

“You… came here to talk to me?”

“Yes. Unless you’re too preoccupied with hiding the fact that you did drink your dad’s vodka. Half of it, even.”

“I… wait, how did you know that?”

“You told me.”

“What? I… Fuck.”

“Language, Alexander.”

“ _You heard me?”_

“Aren’t you aware that Downworlder’s hearing is very sensitive?”

“But you’re in coma. You—you were dying. You shouldn’t be able to hear me.”

“Yes, I am also aware of the fact that I was dying. You said that enough times. Did it make it hurt less?”

“I thought you were dying.”

“You’re avoiding my question.”

“It didn’t. It only made it worse.”

“So Jace was lying after all.”

“Is that why you’re here? To mock me?”

“No. I believe I told you I came here to talk to you.”

“Well, you _are_ talking to me right now.”

“I want to discuss something with you.”

“…look, I’m sorry that I burst into the infirmary and did what I did, but I was half-drunk, okay? And you know I’m an honest drunk. You know it best. And I thought you were dying and I… I would never bother you again. I promise. I’d stop trying to call you—“

“And just why would you think I want that?”

“I thought—I assumed—well, you were pretty crystal clear about it.”

“I kissed you. Why would I do that?”

“Yeah, why would you?”

“Don’t answer my question with a question, Alexander.”

“ _You’re avoiding my question.”_

“So you’re the one mocking me now.”

“Why the fuck did you kiss me?”

“Language, Alexander.”

“I don’t care about language. Jace and Izzy swear all the time. I want you to tell why you kissed me. You didn’t call me back after that night you broke up with me, and suddenly you showed up just before we went to war and you _kissed_ me. And then you ignored me afterward and it’s fucking frustrating because I’m done with your mixed signals, okay? So if you’re just going to toy around with my questions, you better leave now because I’m done.”

“ _Mixed signals_? I’m impressed. I was dying for a few days and when I came back your vocabulary has improved drastically. Was it Isabelle? What magazine did she make you read?”

“Don’t keep avoiding my questions, Magnus. You were the one who came here to talk to me.”

“And you were the one who came to the infirmary and told me a very heartwarming speech.”

“What do you want?”

“You.”

“What? No. You don’t get to come back to me without at least an explanation after you oh so fantastically broke my heart.”

“I love you. How about that?”

“You’re a jerk, you know that? I gave you everything I had, and now, consequently, I have nothing left. You could see my struggles the first time you saw me and you know how well my sexuality could affect everyone, everything around me. And yet you kept pushing me and pushing me until I cracked and the least you could do is _cooperate_. I know nothing about you and you keep telling me to wait but I don’t have eternity like you do. You don’t even trust me.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, I just don’t see why the past has to matter—“

“It matters! It matters to me. It’s a part of who you are and I want to have it, I want to have every part of you but you won’t let me.”

“My past isn’t pretty, alright? It’s bloody and malicious and cruel and I don’t want to burden you with it. And I don’t want you to start feeling sorry or pity for me.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“… the girl that called you Will… does she have a brown hair?”

“…yes? How do you know that?”

“Her eyes. Do they remind you of someone’s?”

“Why are we talking about her? …oh, she’s your friend. You know her.”

“ _Her eyes.”_

“They’re gold. Kind of remind me of Jace’s. You don’t need to glower.”

“That’s Tessa Herondale.”

“What? You’re telling me… No way, that girl is Jace’s ancestor? Jace’s ancestor is a warlock? How is that possible?”

“It’s a long story—“

“ _Oh, give me a break.”_

“—and I’m willing to tell you all of it, if you would follow me home.”

“… so now you want to get back together?”

“When did you get so bitter?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe when you broke my heart?”

“Alexander…”

“You tell me now, or I—mmph.”

…

-

“Magnus. We’re supposed to talk.”

“I know, I know.”

“How are you able to make a Portal?”

“Stop asking questions and let me—“

“Mmmh.”

“Bed.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay—nngh.”

“You have no idea how much I missed this.”

“W-wait—“

“What is it? Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“N-no, you didn’t. I just—“

“Do you want to stop?”

“No, no! Never. Just…come closer. I want to see you.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Don’t laugh. Come here. I want to kiss you.”

“Your wish is my command.”

“ _Oh.”_

“Did I just…?”

“Yes, you did, and don’t stop, you were just—“

“Right there?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Didn’t know you had a weak spot there.”

“S-shut up—“

“Too shaky for real threat, huh?”

“Stop talking. For God’s sakes stop—talking—“

(gasp)

“Alec?”

“Magnus, I’m a Shadowhunter. I deal with pain on daily basis and if you’re going to pause at the slightest of wince—“

“Didn’t want to hurt you.”

“We—we have done this a million times.”

“So what if I want slow and nice this time?”

“…fuck.”

“I’m thinking about ‘making love.’”

“Oh, _right_ there.”

“Your nails are scraping my back.”

“I don’t care—oh.”

“Alec? Too fast?”

“N-no—it’s—it’s good, actually.”

“You’re far too coherent.”

“ _Oh.”_

“There?”

“Y-yes—“

“… Alec? Okay?”

“J-just hold on, I- I need to—“

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“No— _move.”_

“Okay.”

“Oh, goddammit, quit being so fucking gentle, I can handle it, I’m not fragile I can take it I can take it _uuungh_ …”

“ _Alec.”_

“Oh God Magnus don’t stop I’m gonna—“

“Yeah. Don’t hold it.”

“ _Ohh…”_

“ _Alexander…”_

“Love you. Love you so much it hurts—“

-

(rains)

“Does it always rain after we have sex?”

“Your pillow talk is the worst, Alexander.”

“Sorry. I was just—wondering.”

“I’m sore.”

“You’re old.”

“Hey. I’m not _that_ old.”

“If I have the energy, I’d be snorting right now.”

“Would you give me a back massage if you have the energy?”

“No. Because you should be the one giving me the massage. My whole body aches.”

“Especially your ass? …Oh, how cute, you’re blushing. I’m so glad my Alexander is back.”

“I was never gone, you know.”

“Yeah. You never were.”

-

“So… about Tessa Herondale…”

“Well, _once upon a time_ …”

-

(rain continues)

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> posted on fanfiction.net. 
> 
> not canonically possible. disregarding everything that happens in the epilogue of cp2. (which is a very good book, by the way. i'm still on withdrawal)
> 
> hope it's not too confusing. thank you for reading. comments and feedback are appreciated. unbeta'd. follow me on tumblr yesjayplease :)


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